


last kiss

by brightest_stars



Series: Valentine’s Event - brightest_stars submissions [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Discord: Bellamione Coven, Discord: Bellamione Coven Valentine’s Event, F/F, Hurt, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Song: Last Kiss (Taylor Swift)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightest_stars/pseuds/brightest_stars
Summary: Hermione and Narcissa's relationship, as told through vignettes inspired by the lyrics of Taylor Swift's 'Last Kiss'Includes Prompt 14. Two people who have been corresponding by mail (owl, post, or email) are meeting for the first time, only to realize that they already know each other in real life. (up to you whether e-t-l, f-t-l, etc)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Valentine’s Event - brightest_stars submissions [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156091
Comments: 15
Kudos: 77





	last kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Discord: Bellamione Coven Valentine’s Event
> 
> SFW Prompt 14. Two people who have been corresponding by mail (owl, post, or email) are meeting for the first time, only to realize that they already know each other in real life. (up to you whether e-t-l, f-t-l, etc)  
> But like, the prompt is only there if you squint ;)
> 
> un-beta'ed so please let me know of any mistakes! I've really loved writing for this Valentine's event, so enjoy this last fic!

_ I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets _

Hermione doesn’t know how it happened. She’d been corresponding with an Unspeakable for months, consulting on a project, and, of course, the Unspeakable never signed their name. And Hermione’s been looking forward to her responses every time she sends a letter, looking forward to the stimulating intellectual conversation, to the snippets of humour that hold a sharp bite, but make Hermione laugh out loud every time.

Then they had  _ that _ meeting. Hermione had nearly fallen off her chair when she saw Narcissa Black stroll into Minister Shacklebolt’s office. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but certainly not this.

Perhaps, just maybe a little bit, Hermione had developed a  _ small _ crush on the Unspeakable on the other end of her letters. Narcissa Black. Hermione had a crush on Narcissa Black.

Narcissa is always the Unspeakable who answers her requests, and Hermione is beginning to wonder if it’s rigged somehow. She doesn’t know how many Unspeakables there are, but surely, statistically, she should’ve worked with more than one. Especially given how often she writes down to them.

But Narcissa is funny, and sweet - when no one is there. And no one is there quite often. Narcissa brings her lunch from nice delis at least once a week. They go to dinner. Hermione introduces the blonde to muggle culture.

She introduces Narcissa Black to muggle clothes. Jeans.  _ Skinny jeans _ . Hermione knew that was a mistake as soon as Narcissa stepped out of the changing room, hands tucked in the small pockets.

_ Fuck _ . She feels her brain cells dying. How does any woman have the right to be so goddamn beautiful in jeans and a silk button down. Maybe Narcissa is part Veela, that would explain why Hermione’s brain short-circuits nearly every time she catches sight of the blonde.

For some inexplicable reason, Narcissa takes to wearing jeans often. Every excursion into muggle London involves Narcissa in jeans, and it’s really not Hermione’s fault if she kneels down to tie her shoelace just so she can watch Narcissa walk ahead a few paces until she turns to Hermione with a patient smile and waits. When Hermione catches up, without fail, Narcissa always reminds Hermione that there’s a spell to stop shoelaces coming undone, and she pretends to forget that too, even though she mastered it before she even started Hogwarts.

Hermione can’t help it if she likes the way Narcissa walks. Especially in skinny jeans. She’ll never have a chance with the blonde, so she takes what she can get.

The brain cell loss is permanent when Narcissa kisses her the first time. They’re strolling along the Thames, and Hermione does her shoelace thing, but this time Narcissa walks back to her, smirking. When Hermione stands up, Narcissa’s hands fall to her hips, pulling her close.

“Hermione,” she whispers.

“Narcissa,” Hermione breathes back. If her breath hitches, and her voice squeaks a little, Narcissa pretends not to notice. She ducks her head and kisses Hermione so soft and deep that she can feel it in her toes. Sparks light up every nerve as she arches into Narcissa’s body, her hands sliding into Narcissa’s angel-soft hair, cradling her head.

Narcissa pulls back, resting her forehead against Hermione’s. The glow of the streetlight that’s just turned on behind her looks like a halo. “Hermione,” she whispers again. Hermione can hear both desire and some sort of anguish in Narcissa’s voice so she kisses her again.

_ How you kissed me when I was in the middle of saying something _

_ There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions _

Hermione has had a trying day at work. Long and difficult and fraught with inter-species tensions. So she arrives at Narcissa’s townhouse ready to vent.

She’s ranting all through dinner, and Narcissa agrees with all the right things and gasps at all the right moments, and shakes her head in disappointment exactly when Hermione would. They’re cuddling on the couch and Hermione still has things to say. 

“And then, would you believe it, after all that, Bognuk insults Arlan! Calls him an unintelligent beast and Arlan was-“ Hermione flails for a moment when Narcissa’s soft lips swallow the sound of her words. Hermione’s hands settle on Narcissa’s hips as she leans back and lets the blonde press her down into the couch, her arms bracketing Hermione’s head, her body just touching Hermione’s enough to give a subtle pressure.

Hermione gives in to Narcissa’s insistent mouth, she can’t help but respond to the blonde instinctually, hips rolling up against Narcissa as her red lips trail along Hermione’s jaw and settle on a sensitive spot in her neck that forces a whine from her throat. Narcissa responds with a particularly sharp bite, but it only drives Hermione higher as she slides one leg between Narcissa’s and bends her knee. 

Before Hermione can really start escalating the situation, Narcissa pulls back, her face a picture of innocence, butHermione can see the smirk curling after the edges of her lips.

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “What was that for?”

“I thought that instead of talking about how bad your day has been, you might like to try improving it?” Narcissa propositions sweetly, blue eyes wide, lips and body once again descending on Hermione.

The brunette doesn’t bother responding verbally, instead she flips them over, kissing Narcissa deeply as her fingers trail up to the top button on her ivory blouse. 

_ Because I love your handshake, meeting my father _

Hermione had been in Australia for 9 days. She’s had her parents back for 7 days. And she missed Narcissa. 

She had to be strong for her parents, so prove to them that she was ok, she was more than ok, that she was happy. That what she’d done to them had been the right thing even if it meant not having them in her life for six years, and her life had changed so much. They’d last known her as a bookish seventeen year old, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, fighting a hidden war.

Now she was 23, a successful delegate and advocate in the Department for Magical Creatures and Sentient Magical Beings (the renaming of the department had been one of her first, and most hard-won successes). They remembered her as a child and now she was a woman, and Hermione could feel the pressure bearing down on her to be perfect, to show them that she’d become the woman they would’ve wanted her to be. 

She’d come out to them almost immediately, when they asked who this Narcissa was who’d helped their daughter so much in restoring her parents' memories. So Hermione explained. About how they’d fallen in love after the advocate and the Unspeakable had been paired on a research project at the ministry four years ago. 

Now Narcissa was on her way via a series of port keys. Hermione is waiting for her in the international travel lounge of the Australian ministry. She needs five minutes alone with the blonde before she can introduce her to her parents. She needs time to be vulnerable, unsure. Scared and elated at the same time. She’s been so used to taking care of herself that having her parents bam and fussing over her again is stressful - she doesn’t want to snap at them, but she’s truly  _ not _ a child any more.

Hermione is shaken from her thoughts when she hears Narcissa’s voice call her name from across the room. The blonde witch emerges from one of the many arrival rooms surrounding the lounge and Hermione breathes a sigh of deep relief. Narcissa crosses the room quickly, and she sweeps Hermione up in a tight embrace, kissing her deeply, hands gripping her jean-clad hips firmly, and Hermione doesn’t want her to ever let go. 

“Cissa, you have no idea how good it is to see you,” Hermione sighs. “Let’s go back to the hotel.” With a nod from the blonde, Hermione apparates them into her hotel room, immediately entwining herself in Narcissa’s arms again. 

“I’ve missed you too, my darling,” Narcissa whispers. Hermione just hums incoherently against her neck. “Are you alright, love?”

“Mmm,” Hermione replies. “Just.. hold me for a minute, sweetheart?”

“Of course. It’s no hardship.”

Eventually, Hermione kisses Narcissa chastely and steps back. “I guess it’s time for you to meet my parents,” she says with a small smile. 

Narcissa’s hand squeezes hers involuntarily and Hermione squeezes back. “Don’t be nervous, Cissa. They’ll love you just as much as I do.”

And they do. Hermione keeps hold of Narcissa’s hand the whole time. The blonde stands tall, chin up, shoulders back as she returns Hermione’s father’s firm handshake. Narcissa returns it, then kisses Hermione’s mother on the cheek, and lets her hug her tightly, thanking her for being there for her daughter.

And Narcissa loves them. They welcome her into the Granger family with wide arms and warm smiles, despite Hermione’s father attempting the ‘if you hurt my daughter...’ speech. 

Hermione doesn’t think she can love Narcissa more in this moment, snuggled up on one couch, her parents opposite, watching a movie and sharing their favourite Aussie snacks.

_ I do recall now the smell of the rain _

_ Fresh on the pavement _

_ I ran off the plane _

_ That July 9th _

_ The beat of your heart _

_ It jumps through your shirt _

_ I can still feel your arms _

When Hermione returns from Australia,  _ with _ her parents, it’s raining. They had insisted on flying, and after over six years without them, wishing for them, Hermione had caved quickly to their insistence.

The plane landed in a summer shower at Heathrow, and the smell the muggy rain splashing on the hot concrete of the runway seeps through every crack in the jet bridge, filling the air. They slowly make their way through security, and as they come out of the gate, Hermione spots a blonde head, surrounded by a welcome party made up of all sorts of people, people who’d never met her parents but who knew how important they were to her.

The Weasleys and Harry, Andromeda and Teddy, Neville, Luna, Draco, even McGonagall is there, all holding up handmade signs welcoming the Grangers home. 

Hermione’s eyes are already welling with tears when she finally sees Narcissa’s face at the back of the group. Her blue eyes meet Hermione’s and Hermione can see all the joy Narcissa feels for her, and her own gratitude for the blonde threatens to overwhelm her. She sucks in a gasp of air through her constricted lungs as a tear spills over onto her cheek. 

Narcissa slips through the people like a wraith until she is standing at the front and something snaps in Hermione. They’re still about twenty metres from each other, and Hermione takes off running. She almost crashes into Narcissa but the blonde stands strong, absorbing the force of the impact and wrapping Hermione in a hug. The brunette lets Narcissa’s arms hold her tight and secure and she weeps. 

“I’m here, darling, it worked. You’re okay now,” Narcissa whispers, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple as the brunette pulls herself together. 

“Thanks to you. I couldn’t have done this without you, Cissa.”

“You underestimate yourself, my darling. Of course you could’ve.” Narcissa squeezes Hermione one last time and loosens her grip, waiting for Hermione to step back. “Come now, brave face, Miss Gryffindor! Let’s show your parents how good the Wizarding World can be. Molly has organised a surprise party.” The last words are whispered, and Hermione blinks.

It’s been a long flight, and a long month in Australia, reconnecting after restoring her parents memories and shutting down their life to move back to Britain, and a long six years without them before that, and a long six years at school, barely seeing her family, and fighting off evil and death every year. It’s been long and Hermione is exhausted. But Molly is coming from a good place, so Hermione will do as Narcissa suggests - put on her mask and play nice for the afternoon. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll just cling on to the promise of being alone with you after, then.”

“I’m sure we can find a few moments, my love. I am rather good at sneaking around.” Narcissa smirks warmly, and Hermione feels a rush of love for the older witch. 

Hermione pulls her into a tight hug. “Love you, Cissa,” she mutters.

Squeezing her in return, Narcissa whispers, “I love you too.”

With a bracing smile, Hermione steps back, twisting her hand into Narcissa’s as they rejoin her parents and the loud welcome committee.

_ I do remember the swing of your step _

_ The life of the party, you're showing off again _

_ And I roll my eyes and then _

_ You pull me in _

_ I'm not much for dancing _

_ But for you I did _

Hermione watches as Narcissa twirls around the ballroom with Draco, pale and perfect together. A smile tugs at Hermione’s lips when Narcissa spins, and then Draco dips her deep. The blonde witch is an incorrigible show-off, even when she’s the only one on the dancefloor, opening a ball at her own manor. Narcissa just has to throw in an extra little something, to prove something that Hermione hasn’t figured out yet.

The dance ends with a flourish, Narcissa’s green skirts swirling as she invites her guests on to the dancefloor.

Hermione feels her heart beat faster as Narcissa makes a beeline for her, a gracious smile on her face as she accepts compliments from left and right, but she doesn’t stop.

“My love,” Narcissa inclines her head just a touch when she reaches Hermione. “May I have this dance?”

“Cissa,” Hermione says. She lets the blonde witch guide her towards the dancefloor. “You know I can’t dance!”

Narcissa laughs, high and tinkling. Her public laugh. Hermione loves the sounds of it, but she loves the throaty laugh she hears in private much more. “Of course you can, darling. Just follow my lead.” She turns her head back and winks one blue eye.

Hermione doesn’t have a response for that. She knows that she’ll do anything Narcissa asks, just because it brings a smile to her face, and Narcissa knows this too.

The blonde pulls Hermione close, and starts leading them around the dancefloor. It’s much more sedate than her dance with Draco, but she holds Hermione close, cheeks pressed together. “Thank you,” Narcissa breathes in Hermione’s ear.

“Always,” Hermione breathes back, smiling, and pressing a soft kiss to Narcissa’s jaw.

_ I still remember the look on your face _

_ Lit through the darkness at 1:58 _

_ The words that you whispered _

_ For just us to know _

_ You told me you loved me _

_ So why did you go away? _

_ Away _

A featherlight touch to her cheek wakes Hermione up, just enough so that she’s drifting in this half-awake state, the sort she’ll only remember in hazy moments in the morning. Opening her eyes a crack, she sees the digital clock on the bedside table read 01.58.

Blinking, she meets Narcissa’s stormy blue eyes, staring at her in the darkness. After years of getting to know Narcissa, first through work, then through their relationship, she can almost always read Narcissa’s face, but now, in the middle of the night, barely awake, she can’t quite piece together what Narcissa’s face is telling her, can’t quite see through the mask and the layers.

There’s a settled, steady kind of sadness, deep and lasting, a slight awe, and of course, the constant thrum of desire that smoulders beneath every interaction. 

“I love you, Mione,” Narcissa says, her palm settling against Hermione’s cheek, eyes locked on Hermione’s, pinning her in place

“I love you too, Cissa.” Hermione says, her voice harsh and whispery from being asleep just moments ago. “What.. are you okay?”

Narcissa smiles, and Hermione brushes off the thought that it seems like quite a sad smile. “Of course, darling. I’m just fine. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Tha’ s’okay, Ciss...” Hermione mumbles, already drifting back to sleep.

And in the brightness of the morning, Hermione has forgotten, mostly. Just a fragment remains, an uneasiness in her bones, telling her overactive mind that there is something important that has just slipped just out of reach but she pushes the feeling away because she’s busy and she has to get to work for an important meeting. 

_ You can plan for a change in weather and time _

_ But I never planned on you changing your mind _

It was a normal evening. Or so Hermione thought. Narcissa is over at her apartment. They’re having dinner together, and Hermione thinks they’ll probably watch a movie together before they fall into bed.

But Narcissa is quiet. All through dinner. She acquiesces to everything Hermione challenges her on, there’s no stimulating debate. She’s subdued. Hermione can see pain in her cold blue eyes, as much as the blonde tries to hide it.

They don’t even make it to the lounge.

“Cissa, what’s wrong?” Hermione asks, her voice full of exasperation. “You’ve barely spoken, you can’t even look at me! I can tell you’re upset.”

Narcissa doesn’t look at her. She stands by the window, her fingers resting delicately on the sill. Hermione doesn’t approach her, she just watches as Narcissa’s head drops, a rare break in posture, and waits for her response. The blonde is good at silence, it doesn’t unnerve her as much as it does most other people, but after dealing with Harry and Ron for as long as she has, Hermione has patience.

Hermione sees the moment. She sees when Narcissa seems to break, and somehow, she knows what’s coming.

Narcissa turns around slowly, her arms lifting to wrap tightly around her torso. Her blue eyes are filled with tears, her face is a picture of sorrow.

Hermione steps back. She can’t seem to catch her breath.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hermione.” Narcissa says, voice crackly with emotion. She’s closed herself off, shut down. “I’m very sorry. I have to go.” Narcissa walks past Hermione, towards the door.

Hermione moves without thinking, grabbing Narcissa by the wrist, just to stop her. Narcissa flinches, her hand moving halfway to her wand. Hermione jumps back too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… what do you mean? Are you breaking up with me, Cissa?” Narcissa flinches again at hearing her nickname fall from Hermione’s lips. Hermione finds she is oddly rational right now. She isn’t crying. She isn’t angry. She wants answers though.

Narcissa closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath. “I am. I am. I’m so-”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry!” Hermione snaps. “Don’t do that. Just explain. I don’t understand. I thought we were good, did I miss something?” She asks, her voice a little softer. She doesn’t want to scare Narcissa off, and Hermione knows the blonde witch won’t react to brash Gryffindor shouting and arguments. She never has, not in the year they spent working together, or the subsequent three years they’ve been in a relationship. Hermione has learned many things from Narcissa, but perhaps the most effective was the realisation that there are times when Slytherin patience, planning, and temperance are much more useful than Gryffindor hot-headedness, passion, and brashness.

Narcissa shakes her head slowly, her hair falling forward. “It’s not you,” she says eventually. “It’s never you, Hermione.” Narcissa seems to battle with herself then she steps closer, her fingers brushing Hermione’s cheek as she leans forward and kisses her tenderly. 

Hermione responds like she’s been electrocuted - all the emotion flooding in and she kisses Narcissa like she’s a drowning woman and Narcissa is air. She reaches for the blonde’s body and pulls her close, despite her tenseness, because it’s like her muscles know that this is their last kiss and she will do everything she can to keep Narcissa here with her. Narcissa kisses her back, deeply and sadly, until Hermione’s hand slips from her hip to her rib cage. 

Narcissa rips herself away from Hermione with a gasp, her face showing so much regret that it makes Hermione recoil. “I need to go. I’ll owl you your belongings.”

“Cissa, please. I don’t understand,” Hermione says. She can feel the emotion rising in her now, a whiny quality in her voice that she can’t hold back.

Narcissa leaves.

Hermione gasps. Tears start clouding her vision as she stumbles to her room and crumples on the bed.

She doesn’t understand.

_ So I'll go sit on the floor _

_ Wearing your clothes _

_ All that I know is _

_ I don't know how to be something you miss _

_ Never thought we'd have a last kiss _

_ Never imagined we'd end like this _

_ Your name, forever the name on my lips _

Hermione drags herself out of bed every morning. She goes to work. She gets stuff done. She comes home and cooks dinner. She sleeps. She reads. She sees her friends. She tells them that Narcissa has gone. She tells everyone she’s fine.

Draco turns up less to group gatherings. Luna tilts her head, and nods slowly as if she knows something Hermione doesn’t. Harry sees right through her, and he and Ginny put in every effort to cheer her up, but after a few weeks, they have their own lives to focus on, baby Jamie to adore.

Hrmione spends the fourth weekend at home. Alone.

Saturday evening finds her slumped next to the wardrobe, shrouded in Narcissa’s dressing gown, one of her impossibly expensive scarves clutched in her hands as she weeps.

It still smells like her, and Merlin, Hermione misses her so much. She hates that she does, but she can’t turn off the emotions. She wishes Narcissa were here to kiss her hard and stop her mind from turning over and over, narrow her focus to just  _ her. _ Her touch and her smell and her weight against Hermione’s body

How can she prove to Narcissa that they were good for each other, when she doesn’t even know why Narcissa left? How can Narcissa miss her if she avoids her like the plague, because Hermione hasn’t seen the blonde for weeks, and the only reason she knows she’s still even alive is because she cornered Draco at the Ministry and begged him to tell her. Her whole being wants to go to Narcissa’s townhouse, but she won’t, she can’t invade the blonde’s privacy, her  _ home _ , like that.

_ And I hope the sun shines _

_ And it's a beautiful day _

_ And something reminds you _

_ You wish you had stayed _

It’s sunny. Sunny like it hasn’t been for weeks. Still cold though, the warmth is tinged with an iciness, and Narcissa feels like it’s perfect. Just like her life. Warm and happy, but ever so slightly coloured by a melancholy she refuses to name. Naming her unhappiness, the reason for the shadow cast over her every thought and action, would mean admitting a mistake, and Narcissa Black doesn’t make mistakes. Not ever.

She goes out into the garden on this bright, cold day. She pulls weeds, and trims hedges (perhaps a little viciously), she washes out the bird baths and the ponds. 

She keeps busy. 

Because keeping busy keeps her mind occupied.

When she’s done all she can in the garden, she retreats to her potions lab. There’s nothing to brew that she needs and she doesn’t want to waste ingredients just to keep busy so she starts tidying. She restocks all her jars from the storeroom, she makes sure all her books are organised correctly. Then she scours her cauldrons, washes all her utensils. Finally, she settles at her desk. The evening sun is shining through the window, casting long shadows. Narcissa tidied her desk, then she starts sorting through the drawers.

It’s right at the back of the bottom drawer that she finds it.

An innocent looking notebook. Flicking it open, Narcissa remembers. It’s filled with notes, both hers and Hermione’s as they’d worked on how to restore her parents memories. It had been an emotional time, and there were more than a few teardrops smudging the ink.

Sweet Nimue, she misses Hermione. 

She misses the conversations they had, the way they bounced off each other. She misses the way Hermione asked about her day, completely and truly interested, ready to take on any slights against Narcissa and demand an apology from the offending party. She misses how Hermione would kiss her when they parted, kisses tainted with the sadness of temporary departure and the excitement of seeing each other again.

Their last kiss had been like that. Desperate and sad. Desperately sad.

Though Narcissa had been the one who had ended things, that last kiss had nearly changed her mind. She wished it had. It would’ve been humiliating, but so much less painful that the months of solitary pain she’s endured, and the knowledge that she’s caused Hermione at least as much pain as she’s caused herself. Draco said so. Hermione was a shadow of herself, he said, going through the motions with no emotion. Just how Narcissa feels.

She’d thought that she’d been taking too much from Hermione, taking her youth, her reputation, her career. For three years her own happiness had superseded her knowledge that she was ruining Hermione’s chances, until she decided that she would rather be unhappy and allow Hermione the chance to flourish without her.

She’s made a mistake. A big one. A big, life-ruining, fuckup. She had a chance at happiness for the rest of her life, but she ran scared and now she’s fucked it up. Narcissa drops her head into her hands, and lets the tears flow, anger and sadness swelling up in her chest.

Maybe she has a chance to fix this. Just  _ maybe _ . 

_ So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep _

_ And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe _

Sleep is hard to come by these days. Her dreams are full of Narcissa, and that just hurts. Not sleeping means not dreaming, so Hermione stays up. She has the photo album Narcissa had given her their last Valentine’s on her bedside table. She looks through it a lot.

Ginny says too much. Ginny says it sucks but she should move on.

Hermione says that could she just  _ move on _ from Harry, and Ginny stays very silent.

One day, Hermione is dragging herself through Diagon Alley with Ginny and Luna when she sees  _ her _ in a doorway. Her feet stop, she can’t move them. They’ve turned to lead. Her heart is beating like a drum in her chest, sending her pulse thundering through her ears.

One part of her wants to run and hide as her wound is torn open one more. The other part can’t look away because Narcissa looks  _ happy _ . Her eyes are bright, she’s glowing.

And then her eyes meet Hermione’s, and the happiness falls away, like a glamour under the Thief’s Downfall. Red rims around empty blue eyes, her hair is lifeless, her skin is dull.

Hermione wants to run to her, to wrap her up tight in her arms and promise everything will be okay, to make it all better, but Narcissa turns her head sharply, and walks in the opposite direction.

Hermione feels like she’s run a marathon. She grabs Ginny’s hand. “I want to go home now, Gin.”

_ Just like our last kiss _

_ Forever the name on my lips _

_ Forever the name on my lips _

It’s another day just like any other when there’s a knock on Hermione’s door. She trudges over and wrenches it open, and she could’ve been knocked down with a feather when she sees Narcissa standing there. She’s wearing muggle clothes - jeans, t-shirt, and a big cardigan.

“Narcissa.” Hermione says, tamping down every emotion. The blonde is a wreck, worse than she’d looked that day on Diagon Alley.

“Hermione.” Narcissa’s hands jerk towards Hermione, but she stops herself. “I’m…. sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything. I had to tell you. I was wrong. I- I’m sorry.” She bows her head in defeat and tears drip from her puffy eyes. She doesn’t even ask for a second chance. She looks like a kicked puppy.

Wordlessly, Hermione steps back from the door, waving the blonde into the flat she’s been in more time than she can count. Narcissa’s eyes blow wide in surprise, and she walks slowly into the lounge, standing awkwardly in the centre of the room.

Hermione walks over to her, and takes Narcissa’s hands in her own. “ _ Narcissa _ . You came back.” There’s wonder that she can’t shut off in her voice.

“I- You- I-” Narcissa stutters, eyes cast down as if she can’t bear to look at Hermione’s face.

“Look at me.” Hermione demands harshly, and Narcissa’s head snaps up. “You left.” Narcissa nods morosely. “But you  _ came back _ . Are you- is this for good?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Narcissa breathes. “Hermione, I-”

“We can talk later. You won’t leave again, you’ll talk to me.

“I will,” Narcissa confirms. 

Hermione lifts one hand out of Narcissa's grip to stroke her chek, flick away the moisture of her tears. “ _ Narcissa _ ,” she whispers reverently.

Narcissa gasps in a breath like she’s been drowning. “ _ Hermione _ ,” she says longingly.

Hermione crashes her lips to Narcissa’s - kissing her hard and fast, walking her backwards and pressing her up against the wall.

There’s sorrow in how they touch each other, fingers trailing over little details that have been missed and longed for, but there’s also desperation in how Narcissa rips off Hermione’s jumper, how Hermione fumbles with the button and zip on Narcissa’s jeans.

“ _ Narcissa _ , I’ve missed you,” Hermione pants, chest heaving.

“ _ Hermione _ ,” Narcissa collides her lips back onto Hermione’s mouth. The flat is silent except for their loud breathing and the constant whispers of each other's names.

_ Just like our last... _

  
  



End file.
